Inane Apologies
by Lover of Angelus
Summary: You apologize, try to get him to look at you. But how can you do that when you know that he hates you because were the one who stole his father, your father. WINCEST. Character death.


III **Inane Apologies**

II

I** Disclaimer**: Me no own, You no sue.

II

III **Warnings** : Language, **Character Death**, **_WINCEST

* * *

_**

It hurts. More than you wish to tell him. Hurts mostly because you know that he won't care and that no matter how much you pleaded, it wouldn't stop. So you wait it out. Wait for it to be over, but despite the fact that these damned things only last a few seconds, they still hurt like a bitch and your forced to endure them for the sake of people you've never met.

"Shh," your brother coos in your ear, holding you and petting your hair as he tries to take away at least some of the pain. It's not working and you want to shove him away from you. "It's okay, Sammy," is all he says for what seems like hours. And when you finally get over the pain, you tell him about the people you see and your ideas on what's going to hurt them; your father standing off to the side, glaring at Dean for coddling you.

* * *

"I'm sorry," you cry, your entire body is shaking and you can feel small rivulets of blood that it not your own trickling down your face. Your see your brother, wide-eyed and disbelieving and he knows that you're not really sorry. 

"What did you do?" he asks, his anger growing and clouding his hazel eyes. "What the hell did you do?" he shouts as he lunges over the body and throws himself at you, knocking you against the wall with fistfuls of your jacket clenched in his fists.

"Dean," your voice is chopped and you realize that instead of losing your father, you just lost your brother. "I had to do it, I had to do it, Dean."

"What the fuck did you just do, Sammy!" he pulls you from the wall a little and slams you back against it, harder then the first time. "Answer me!"

"Don't make me do this, please don't make me do this," you beg, tears are slowly making their way down your cheeks and you just want it all to be over.

"Seems to me like you already did it," he whispers hoarsely, letting you go and quietly making his way over to the body. He rolls the man over onto his back and runs a hand over the corpse's face. "Why?" is all he asks. And you have no way to answer the question.

* * *

"I'm sorry," you say to Dean as the casket is lowered into the ground. 

"I know why you did it, and I'm surprised," he's still watching the coffin, watching as his father is placed quietly into the ground, he remembers when dad told him that this had always been a dangerous gig and he wonders what thoughts had gone through their father's head as Sam had raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

"You do?" it's your turn to be surprised, if he knew then why wasn't he more upset?

"Yeah, and I can't help but wonder: why did you stop him? You've been wanting to kill this demon for God knows how long, so why did you stop dad when this would've been the only way?"

"I have wanted to end this thing for a while, wanted to be normal, but not if it meant sacrificing the only person who has always been there," you look at your brother, he's still watching the coffin and you can see his face contort with something akin to disgust, he hates chick-flick moments but you continue anyway. "I wouldn't be able to stay alive if you were gone, Dean. Even when I was at Stanford, it was hard but I knew that you were still _alive_ and that was all that mattered to me."

"Do we have to hug?" he asks, tone laced with sarcasm and you can't help but smile 'cause you now know that you're one step closer to forgiveness. However, you know that you'll never be completely forgiven because no matter how much he loves you, you were the one who took away his father. You were the one who took away the one that Dean loved almost as much as he loved you and he would tell you later on that he had always known that there was no monster on the face of the earth that could kill a Winchester, "We can only be ended by our own kind," he smiled and cocked the shot gun.

"No, Dean," you say as you bring yourself out of the clouds, "we don't have to hug."

He laughs bitterly and turns away from the funeral and heads back to the Impala, you following after him after one last glance at your father's new home.

* * *

III

II

I

II

III


End file.
